ince Rex's arm
had been reset; and now, at the descriptive suggestions in the latter
part of her uncle's speech, her elated spirits made her features less
unmanageable than usual; the smiles broke forth, and finally a
descending scale of laughter.

"You are a pretty young lady--to laugh at other people's calamities,"
said Mr. Gascoigne, with a milder sense of disapprobation than if he
had not had counteracting reasons to be glad that Gwendolen showed no
deep feeling on the occasion.

"Pray forgive me, uncle. Now Rex is safe, it is so droll to fancy the
figure he and Primrose would cut--in a lane all by themselves--only a
blacksmith running up. It would make a capital caricature of 'Following
the Hounds.'"

Gwendolen rather valued herself on her superior freedom in laughing
where others might only see matter for seriousness. Indeed, the
laughter became her person so well that her opinion of its gracefulness
was often shared by others; and it even entered into her uncle's course
of thought at this moment, that it was no wonder a boy should be
fascinated by this young witch--who, however, was more mischievous than
could be desired.

"How can you laugh at broken bones, child?" said Mrs. Davilow, still
under her dominant anxiety. "I wish we had never allowed you to have
the horse. You will see that we were wrong," she added, looking with a
grave nod at Mr. Gascoigne--"at least I was, to encourage her in asking
for it."

"Yes, seriously, Gwendolen," said Mr. Gascoigne, in a judicious tone of
rational advice to a person understood to be altogether rational, "I
strongly recommend you--I shall ask you to oblige me so far--not to
repeat your adventure of to-day. Lord Brackenshaw is very kind, but I
feel sure that he would concur with me in what I say. To be spoken of
as 'the young lady who hunts' by way of exception, would give a tone to
the language about you which I am sure you would not like. Depend upon
it, his lordship would not choose that Lady Beatrice or Lady Maria
should hunt in this part of the country, if they were old enough to do
so. When you are married, it will be different: you may do whatever
your husband sanctions. But if you intend to hunt, you must marry a man
who can keep horses."

"I don't know why I should do anything so horrible as to marry without
_that_ prospect, at least," said Gwendolen, pettishly. Her uncle's
speech had given her annoyance, which she could not show more directly;
but she felt